No More Dirty Little Secrets
by Afsaneh
Summary: I've always wondered what went through Christian and Syed's minds before they first kissed? This is my version of all the things they've thought, but never actually said to each other.
1. Chapter 1

**No More Dirty Little Secrets**

**Syed's point of view**

I cringed as I turned away from him, just wanting to find a hard surface and bang my head against it hard. Repeatedly. It was one of those split second moments that replays in your head, again and again. He introduced himself as Christian. Christian. A perfectly normal, common name for a man. Like Christian Bale. Or Christian Slater. Why didn't I just reply with my name "Syed" like any normal, sensible, rational thinking person would? Why did I have to blurt out "Muslim" and watch his eyes widen incredulously while his lips tried to stifle a smile? It's not as if he even looks religious.

And even then, most _normal_ people would have stopped right there, made a joke of it, laughed it off. But my mouth just had to carry on moving regardless with that stupid comment about his handshake.

What an idiot. I can't face him again. I'm just going to keep my head down and my hands in the dishwater. Work hard, earn my keep, do my penance for stealing the money and get on with my life. It's not as if we have to talk or anything. I don't even have to look at him.

I'm not surprised he's gay though. I think I would have guessed that. I wonder if he tells everyone right away like that, or was it just me? Perhaps he thinks I'm homophobic. He won't want to talk to me anyway if he thinks I'm homophobic. How can I prove that I'm not? I'll just be really friendly. Not overly friendly, of course, not gushing or anything. Warm and open. Just so he knows I don't have a problem with it. With him. Oh god, he's going to think I'm such an idiot. I only want him to like me. So we can talk and stuff. It's not a lot to hope for, is it?

**Christian's point of view**

Poor bloke, he made a right arse of himself over that introduction. Still, we've all been there, haven't we? God knows I've tripped myself up enough times. Mainly with straight men: sometimes it takes a while to get the gaydar fully operational. He must have thought I was a Christian – god, I hope that doesn't mean I look religious. I would hope to be a bit more, well, stylish, than that.

But he must be a pretty heavy duty Muslim if that was the first thing to come out of his mouth. Funny though, because he didn't look religious either. That hair's just a bit too long, the way it curls around the base of his neck and those eyes are just a bit too lively… Ok, ok, so I noticed. Just because he's out of bounds doesn't mean I can't look now, does it? It's like going shopping but leaving your credit card behind in the kitchen drawer.

I shouldn't have snapped at him like that. I don't really think he meant it. It's just that with him and his family, well, I guess I feel a bit of an outsider sometimes, and it just makes me a bit defensive. I hope he didn't take it the wrong way. I'd like to think we could have a laugh, we're going to be working together after all. He's got to be better company than Zainab.

And he was quite cute too, I thought.


	2. Chapter 2

**Christian's point of view**

Now, just hold a minute… all this Masood family stuff is getting a bit much. I mean, there's Zainab, she's the temperamental one, a charming hostess one minute and fiery as a chilli the next. Then there's Mass, not that I see as much of him. I like Mass, he's got a good sense of humour and he doesn't take Zainab too seriously, but he knows when to calm her down. But of course he's out working most of the day. And then there's Amira. Not that she's strictly part of the family, of course, but I guess it's only a matter of time.

She's beautiful, she really is. And she knows how to make the most of herself. I admire that – it takes effort to look as good as she does. But, still, that woman is so annoying. I know she just wants to be accepted by the family, and I wouldn't want to be thinking that Zainab was going to be my mother in law either, but really, she needs to sort herself out. Like today, when she was in the Unit, begging me to talk to her in the hope that Zainab wouldn't notice. Sorry, darling, not my problem to get involved with. And yes, I know I'm a fun gay man with a good sense of style, but that doesn't mean we're going to go shopping for accessories together, or anything, it really doesn't.

Syed. Well, I don't think I've quite worked him out yet. He spends a lot of his time keeping the peace between Zainab and Amira. Can't be much fun and half the time it seems like he's on automatic pilot. He knows all the right things to say, but I get the sense his heart's not really in it. Still, it can't be easy, living and working with your family, and with your mother breathing down your neck every time you so much as glance in your girlfriend's direction. And he did cover for me today when I was out at the builders. He didn't have to do that. He doesn't seem to have any male friends though, he's always with either his mother, or his girlfriend.

That man's got a secret. I'm sure of it.

**Syed's point of view**

Sometimes, I wish the two of them would just shut up. Or head off up West together, and walk the length of Oxford Street and back again, until there was nothing left to say. Not one word. Just silence. God knows what Christian must think. It's embarrassing really. I know it's a family business, but it's not exactly professional to have my mother and my girlfriend bickering over the balti. Christian never says anything, but I can tell by the way his expression shrinks back when he looks at them that he just wants them to disappear.

Maybe we should send them shopping one day. We'd get on much faster without them fighting. It must be hard on him at the moment, covering the caff, and working and looking after Ian's kids. I covered for him today with mum, it wasn't much, but I hope he realised that I just wanted to help.

He's a good cook too, Mum couldn't believe it the first time she tasted his jalfrezi. I knew, I just knew she wanted to say that it wasn't that bad, for someone who isn't Pakistani, but even she didn't dare. He'll always stand up for himself. I really like that about him. He doesn't try and hide who he is.

Now there's a thought. Mum and Christian, slugging it out together. That's something I would really like to see.

To be continued….


	3. Chapter 3

**Syed's point of view**

Christian, those sunglasses are not good on you. And I mean really not good. I'm a straight man and even I can tell they'd look better on a flimsy 22 year old American prom queen who's trying to look ten years older, than on a 30-something muscular gay man, who looks best in a tight t-shirt and jeans.

Hold on, what was that thought? Christian in a tight t-shirt? What the…? No, it's ok, I've only noticed because it's what he quite often wears. And I have noticed it, I'm not ashamed to admit that. Going out with Amira has made me much more aware of clothes and stuff. She even bought me a pink shirt. Not that I've worn it yet.

But Christian must have a thumping hangover. I didn't see how much he put away at the club last night: it was difficult to spot him on the dance floor through the smoke from the smoke machine. And I was trying to keep the peace between Amira and Janine. So he must have had a few without me noticing. And then there was that guy that he was with…I didn't think he was going to make it into work today at all.

I'm glad he did. It's better when he's here.

**Christian's point of view**

Oh my head hurts. And my stomach is heaving. I don't think I can face cooking curry today. Even the smell of it is going to make me retch. I just want to stay in bed and forget about it all… last night, James, the fact that I'm 37 and have a killer of a hangover.

I need to get up. I have to get up. I have to go to work.

Just five minutes more.

Up! Get up, get up, get up! Ok, I'm moving. Legs swinging out of bed, making contact with the floor. What's clean to wear? Brown vest-top? Why not, that should distract Syed's attention from my tired, aged, hungover face. Syed? Why did I think that? I meant Amira. Or Zainab. Didn't I?

Don't think, just move. Slowly. Shower, clothes, shoes. Sunglasses, where are my sunglasses? I've never been sure about these sunglasses – it's always hard to see yourself in the mirror when you're wearing sunnies, so I'm not sure what I look like in them. But today, I don't really care. It's not as if anyone's going to notice what I look like. Oh, I am so never drinking again.

Maybe if I just sit down for a minute I'll feel better. Sink my head between my legs, yes, that feels a bit less wobbly. I'll just stay here for the rest of the day. Ok, ok, I know I can't. I need to go to work. I need the money and I don't want to let them down. And anyway, Syed will be there.

**Syed's point of view**

That coffee went down well. Talk about little things making people happy. He looked like I'd given him vintage champagne, the way he savoured that mug of instant. Well, perhaps vintage champagne wouldn't be his first choice of drink this morning…

I wonder what exactly it was he said to Bushra when he told her mum would sing at the party. She was obviously charmed by him, judging by her reaction this morning. Said she couldn't wait to meet him: I bet he gets that a lot. Mum is furious of course, but then Christian doesn't know how competitive she and Bushra are. Not that it would have made any difference to him last night by the looks of things. Still, I did quite enjoy watching Mum drag it out of him. She's like a dentist operating without anaesthetic sometimes.

And he was apologetic. Truly apologetic. He really did look sorry when he took those ridiculous glasses off and looked me in the eyes. It was such a sincere look, I had to turn away. But I could still feel his eyes on me as I walked across the kitchen to the kettle. Good job I'm immune to all this charm of his. Even with a hangover, some people might find him irresistible.

**Christian's point of view**

OK, so my gaydar is, shall we say, a little bit fogged up this morning, and perhaps not entirely trustworthy, but was that a moment there, between me and Syed? He didn't need to come and stand next to me and defend me when Zainab was having a go, did he? Or look me in the eyes and smile before making me a cup of coffee. Hell, even most of my lovers don't do that.

Even Amira turning up didn't quite spoil the moment. Whatever I said to Bushra – and I have no recollection of that phone conversation at all - it was worth it for that look in his eyes and that brief smile which made my hangover recede for a few moments.

And he thought I pulled James.

James. Oh no. Another casualty from last night. I messed it up with my oldest friend and here I am, fantasising about the man who is going out with the most gorgeous woman in Walford. What a sad, desperate fool I am.

**More later….**


	4. Chapter 4

**Christian's point of view**

Ok, I'd just like to point out that I have an excruciatingly bad hangover. I've just been forcefed a mouthful of tripe and I'm standing in the middle of the street, with my oldest friend, who turned me down last night, standing in front of me, and Syed hovering behind me like a groupie. I just know that this isn't going to make me look good.

Trust James to do the decent thing and try and sort it all out. I was hoping not to see him for about, say, a year, and that when we did next meet we could just pretend it never happened. But James, bless him, doesn't want things to be awkward between us. Well, I wasn't feeling awkward until about thirty seconds ago. In fact, I was doing quite a good job of reinterpreting it all. For Syed's benefit, of course. But here James is, standing here wanting to talk about it.

And Syed's standing here too, hovering behind my right shoulder, not quite close enough to be touching. Just like in the Unit. And now he knows I was spinning him a line about James. What do I care? Everyone knows the night before's always better once it's been retold a few times. And it's not like I haven't left enough guys wanting more in the past. I wonder why Syed was so interested though. Most straight guys wouldn't even have asked, let alone pressed for details. And why was he following me up the street, anyway?

**Syed's point of view**

So, Christian, you're not quite as irresistible as you think you are. All this rubbish about James being just a bit too keen… looks like you were the one who got turned down last night.

Not that I'm that interested really. I'm a Muslim, so whatever a couple of guys do, or don't do together has no relevance for me. It's more important to me that Amira and my mother get on, if she and I are going to have a chance of a future. That's why I left them there together in the Unit and followed Christian out on to the street. They need time to bond together. It wasn't because Amira interrupted us before when he was telling me about last night.

I wonder if Christian wants to settle down one day, like I do with Amira. He's certainly dedicated to the business; most people probably would have pulled a sickie on a day like today. And he's got his own place – I've never seen it, but I bet it's beautifully done up. He's got great taste – he always looks good. Except for those sunglasses of course. Maybe he just hasn't found the right man yet.

I wonder who the right man for Christian would be. James seems nice enough from what I saw of him, but then again, he wasn't interested. Why would James turn someone like Christian down? If I were James..… I mean, if I were gay like James I'd snap him up so fast he wouldn't even see it coming.

* * *

**Christian's point of view. **

Whoever it is, banging on the door like that, would they please just go away? It's not morning yet. Just stop it, and let a man sleep, would you? Ok, ok, I'm coming, but don't expect to be invited in for breakfast, whoever you are.

Shit, it's Syed. I'm still half asleep and he looks kind of hot in that outfit. Makes a big change from the blue T-shirt and hair net. And there's that smile again… what's he saying? An early start? Well, he's not wrong there, it's still the middle of the night by my standards.

He's right, this is going to be the day from hell.

But it hasn't started off too badly.

**Syed's point of view**

I volunteered to go and wake him up. I mean, it wouldn't have been fair on Christian to let my mother do it. I've been on the receiving end of her wake-up calls enough times in the past, and they're not gentle. I had to hammer on the door for a good five minutes before he came to open it. He must be a heavy sleeper.

Even so, I wasn't expecting him to open the door topless. My god, how that man works out! I was trying so hard to keep my eyes above his neck that some stupid imitation of my mother came out of my mouth. What was it - "Time waits for no man, Christian." Still, it made him laugh, though.

This is going to be a long, long day. A day full of my mother and Bushra, sniping at each other over the samosas. I'm glad Christian's going to be there. I don't think I could get through it without him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Christian's point of view.**

I am so angry with him, I can't bring myself to say his name.

I thought he was different. All that business asking me about James. Making out like we were mates, wanting to know more. Covering for me with his mum. Talking about us being partners. Bloody hypocrite. Scratch below the surface and those religious nuts are all the same. Wanting to be all friendly and understanding to start with, but mention anything about your life and they clam up.

If he was here right now, I'd tell him what it's like. What it's like to be haraam, as he so eloquently put it. Weighing up who it's safe to tell, risking rejection, gossip, violence even. His pious finger pointing is part of all of that.

He's just using religion as an excuse. Zainab and that bloody Bushra I can almost understand. I don't expect them to welcome me wearing rainbow t-shirts. Zainab's from Pakistan and things are much more traditional over there. But Syed was born and brought up here, he knows better than to thrust his religion in my face. It's just a convenient excuse so he doesn't have to contradict his mother. So much for friendship.

He's been playing with me all this time. Does he think I haven't noticed? The smiles, the looks – making out like we understand each other. He stood so close to me today as we watched Amira sing; our shoulders brushed against each other every time he moved. Yet barely an hour later, he stood and watched while his mother humiliated me in public.

And now here he is, turning up to rub my nose in it some more. Why doesn't he just leave me alone?

What does he mean: "I can't"? All he has to do is turn around and walk out the door. It's not exactly …

Hold on – he's never looked at me like that before. That's not what I….

Syed? Shit – he's confused. He doesn't know what he wants. This is more than just about religion. This is about me and him.

If I just reach out, grab his elbow and tell him that … Fuck, his lips are soft.

**Syed's point of view**

What a total screw up of a day.

OK, so it wasn't a complete disaster. The food was good, I'll admit that. Masala Queen proved itself today. In fact, it was so good one of the guests said it reminded her of her mother's cooking, back in Pakistan. I thought Mum was going to burst with pride when she heard that. And Amira's singing was exquisite. She's so talented, I can't believe she wants to be with a messed up fool like me. Even Bushra seemed happy with it all, until Christian's outburst at the end. Why does he have to flaunt it so? Not everyone feels comfortable with a pink flag waving in their face. He could have just have smiled off her comment about him being a bachelor. Why does he have to make everything about being bloody gay?

I'll have to go to the Unit and talk to him. If only I can make him understand. When I told him it was haraam, I didn't mean it was haraam for him. I meant it was for me. This isn't about who he is, it's about who I am.

He's angry - I can practically hear him clashing utensils together from the street. Maybe if I keep things matter of fact, tell him about the new bookings, keep things calm between us, then maybe we can talk.

Oh, he looks so hurt. I don't want to hurt him, I want to take him in my arms and kiss him. I've wanted to kiss him since the first time I saw him. Why doesn't he realise that?

I wish it could be as simple as he thinks it is. He thinks it's just about respect and personal freedom. He doesn't understand that it's forbidden, it's not how we were made. I know how good it feels to be with another man, but I also know it's wrong.

I'm going to leave, this isn't getting anywhere. He's too angry, I can't make him understand.

Oh Christian, haven't you noticed how I can't take my eyes off you? Haven't you seen it in the way I smile at you, the way we stand so close our shoulders touch? Please, Christian, I need you to see it in my face, because I can't tell you with my lips.

Oh, god, he's trying to stop me going... He's read my eyes, he understands this isn't just about my faith. I'm going to kiss him, I can't stop myself from reaching up towards his lips….

I'm so going to regret this in the morning.


	6. Chapter 6

"Hello."

Syed looked around, taking in tangle of sheets sprawled around their entwined legs. "What are you talking about?"

Christian smiled. "You. I just wanted to say hello to the real you, instead of the you I've been thinking about so much over the last few days."

"You've been thinking about me?"

"Just a bit." Christian nudged Syed with his naked shoulder. "So?"

"What?"

"Have you been thinking about me too? Or was this…" Christian gestured to the trail of clothes from his front door to the bed "just some spontaneous moment of passion that had never occurred to you before?"

"Ummm… look, Christian, it's late, I'd better go."

"Sure?" Christian lent back into the pillow, lazily reaching up his finger and tracing it down Syed's bare chest.

"Yeah"

"Really sure?" Christian propped himself up on one elbow and gently kissed the corner of Syed's mouth.

"Yes…" Syed tried to move away but Christian was gently tugging at his lips, insistent. He felt Christian's tongue brushing gently against his.

Syed lifted his hands and pushed Christian away.

"Christian, stop it. I'm leaving." He reached for his T-shirt, pulling it over his head, avoiding Christian's eyes.

Christian lifted his head, startled at the vehemence in Syed's tone. "OK," he shrugged. "Go. But we'll do this again, yeah?"

Syed looked away as he pulled on his jeans, contempt rising to overcome the sadness building up inside him. "I don't think so."

He grabbed his boots and headed for the door.

**Christian's point of view**

What the…? Twenty minutes ago, there we were, rolling over one another, grabbing, kissing, scratching, sucking. Consuming each other, like we'd been waiting all our lives for it. And then, suddenly, it's all over and he's out the door as if his mother's waiting outside or something.

What an incredible evening. Who'd have thought it? This afternoon he was screaming in my face how being gay was anti-God, and a few hours later we're having sex vigorously enough to win a gold medal.

He must be so confused. Perhaps that's why he ran away so fast. I'm guessing no-one in his family knows about all this. After all, Zainab made her feelings pretty clear this afternoon. And of course, there's Amira too. Syed can't seriously be contemplating a future with her. Not if what happened this evening is anything to go by.

There's no way that man is straight. I've been with straight men enough times before and I can always tell because they never look you in the eyes. It's as if they're so ashamed, they can't bear to have you look at them. But Syed wasn't ashamed. He looked straight into my eyes as if he was trying to see into my soul.

I guess I'll see him again tomorrow. I wonder what he'll say. This wasn't some empty one-night stand. This is the start of something special.

**Syed's point of view**

That is never happening again. Never. It was a mistake, and one I'm not going to repeat.

Christian won't care, one night-stands are his speciality. Pick them up, shag them, drop them – everyone in the Square knows that. He doesn't need to worry about me pursuing him or anything. It'll be as if it never happened. I'll just avoid him for a while and that way we don't even need to mention it. I'll be with Amira, and he'll be with… well, whoever's next.

Why do I keep on doing this? I need to pray, to focus, to ask Allah for strength. I need to see Amira. Maybe if I spend a bit more time with her, my feelings will start to change. My mother's already started talking about us getting married. I've got to get this desire for men out of my system, but every time I do this, I end up wanting more. And this evening was incredible - it made the others seem like schoolboy fumbles.

It was a mistake to do that so close to home though, I hope Christian keeps his mouth shut. I wonder what he thought of it. I wonder what he thinks of me. It all seems so easy for him, everyone expects him to behave like this. His sister treats him like her personal soap opera and Ian seems to think it's normal. I've even watched Amira sitting there, listening to him, lapping up the details.

I should have said something before I left, told him it was just a bit of fun, fleeting and forgettable. He doesn't know how much I've been thinking about him, after all. I can never tell him, but the truth is, this evening felt really good. It felt right. So why does it have to be so wrong?


	7. Chapter 7

Christian watched the back of Syed's head follow Amira into the Queen Vic. Spotting him on the street, he'd barely managed to run up to him and say the words: "About Friday night…" before Syed had turned away. Christian wasn't in the habit of chasing after his one-night stands, but his need to talk to Syed had been building up all weekend. This felt different and he wanted to know if Syed felt something too.

But it was becoming increasingly obvious that Syed didn't want to talk about it. Later, in the Unit, when Christian tried to broach the subject, Syed's terse reply – "Amira and I had a very good weekend" – told Christian exactly where he stood. Yet Christian's memories of Friday night spoke louder to him than any words Syed might say.

Not knowing what else to do, Christian grabbed his jacket and headed for Walford library. There, a young librarian in a maroon v-neck sweater with a tattooed snake curling around his wrist pointed him in the direction of the computer terminals. Christian logged into his email and began to type.

* * *

From: dancingqueen

To: Syed Masood

Subject: Can we talk?

Syed,

You're avoiding me and we really need to talk. Please email me back, or call me.

Christian

* * *

Syed was sitting in his room, his back against the door, a pile of magazines in front of him. He was completely still, listening for the familiar sounds of movement in the rest of the house – the click of the kettle or a creaking floorboard revealing the presence of another family member. But there was complete silence.

The magazines lay open, sprawled across the floor, revealing a gallery of breasts and legs – naked women thrusting their bodies before the camera, reddened lips pouting out of every page. Syed flicked through the magazines, listlessly. He had found them in their usual hiding place under Tamwar's bed. But judging by the dogeared pages, his younger brother got more satisfaction from them than Syed did. No matter how long he looked at them, the artificiality of the images only made him feel depressed. Syed slapped the magazines shut and placed them in a loose pile on his desk. He switched on his PC and logged onto his email.

* * *

From: Syed Masood

To: dancingqueen

Subject: Re. Can we talk?

Don't **ever** email me at my work email address again. What do you think you're playing at? Anyone could have seen it. Just leave me alone.

Syed

PS – if you have to email me, send it to my personal email address - flybynight.....

* * *

The answer came almost immediately.

* * *

From: dancingqueen

To: flybynight

Subject: Re: Re. Can we talk?

Sorry, I know I shouldn't have emailed you at work. But I didn't know what else to do. You won't talk to me, you won't look at me, you'll barely even be in the same room as me. We need to sort this out. Please, can we talk?

Thinking of you –

Christian

PS – what's with the 'flybynight' email address anyway?

* * *

From: flybynight

To: dancingqueen

Subject: Re: Re: Re. Can we talk?

'Flybynight' doesn't mean anything. It's the email address I use for personal stuff.

Meet me in the Unit in 30 minutes.

Syed

* * *

**Syed's point of view**

I'm going to have to be strong here. Tell him I've forgotten all about it. Tell him it was nothing, a mistake. The sort of thing that happens all the time. No, scrap that, I don't want him thinking this is a regular occurrence. I'll tell him that it was a mistake and that it's never happened before. But somehow, I don't think he'll believe that. It was a bit too obvious that I knew what I was doing. I'll just tell him that I've forgotten about it and I want him to, too.

I wish I could forget about it. It's been going round and round in my head all weekend. I took Amira shopping in Bond Street to make it up to her. Not that she knows, of course, but it made me feel a bit better. It was like doing a penance, dragging round the shoe shops after her, while all I could think about was the electricity that passed between us as his skin touched mine.

Amira and I, we're good together. She's from a good family, and we're very compatible. We could have a great future together - even Bushra seems to think so. I just need to focus on Amira and stop getting distracted by thoughts about Christian. Friday night was a mistake, and I'm going to forget all about it.

Here I am at the Unit and it looks like he's already arrived. Right, I need to be quick, firm and decisive. I've forgotten all about it and I want him to do the same.

**Christian's point of view**

That man needs a good slapping. Or a good shagging. Or both. What did he just call me? A jumped up old queen? I may be over 10 years older than he is, but at least I'm honest about who I am.

I don't believe he isn't interested. I was there last Friday night, and I remember what it felt like, our bodies moving together in rhythm without words, as if they were moving to their own music. He felt it too, and when I brushed past him just now in the Unit, I could feel the heat from his body as it was yearning to touch mine.

An old man, he called me. Threatening to call me a liar, to say that I came onto him. As if I don't have enough other options for a one-night stand. If that's the way he wants to play it, then we'll have a game. Let's just see how far his resolution stretches. He says he's forgotten about it all - well, let's just see if that's really true.


	8. Chapter 8

To: dancingqueen

From: flybynight

Subject: What do you think you're playing at?

Christian, what exactly do you think you're playing at? Stop brushing up against me every time you see me. I told you to forget about it. Leave me alone.

Syed.

* * *

To: flybynight

From: dancingqueen

Subject: Re: What do you think you're playing at?

I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just getting on with the job. After all, why would I think someone like you would be interested in jumped up old queen like me?

Christian.

PS – you love it really.

* * *

To: dancingqueen

From: flybynight

Subject: Re: Re: What do you think you're playing at?

Ok, I shouldn't have said that. I didn't mean it. I'm sorry, you're not that old. Can we just forget about it please?

Syed

* * *

To: flybynight

From: dancingqueen

Subject: Re:Re:Re:What do you think you're playing at?

Ok, Syed, I get it. You're not interested in me. Fair enough, there are plenty of other men who are. But, no, I can't forget it. Don't you remember what it was like?

This must be killing you. I'm here if you want to talk.

Christian

* * *

To: dancingqueen

From: flybynight

Subject: Re:Re:Re:Re:What do you think you're playing at?

What do you mean, it must be killing me? I'm fine, absolutely fine and there's nothing to talk about. I'm with Amira, and we're very happy. There's nothing else to say.

Syed

PS Who are all these men who are interested in you?

* * *

To: flybynight

From: dancingqueen

Subject: Self-deception

Syed. Two nights ago, when you were propped up on my pillows, you told me about all the times you'd been sitting in the Vic with Amira, one eye on me, one eye on all the other men in the pub, worried that one of them would approach me and steal me from under your nose. Don't you remember that?

Christian

PS – you could always come for a night out with me, just to prove that you're not interested.

* * *

To: dancingqueen

From: flybynight

Subject: Re: Self-deception

I never said that! What I said was that I always had one eye out to see who you might pick up next. Why would I be worried about anyone stealing you? Anyway, I was with Amira.

Besides, I don't see how going out on a night with you will show that I'm not interested. You should come out on a night with me, and then you'll see that we've got nothing in common, that our lives couldn't be further apart and this is all just one silly misunderstanding.

Syed

* * *

To: flybynight

From: dancingqueen

Subject: Re: Re: Self-deception

Ok, how about this: we organise one night out each. You choose what you want to do, plan it, and I'll come along. And I'll do the same. At the end of it, we'll decide whether you're interested or not. Deal?

* * *

To: dancingqueen

From: flybynight

Subject: Re: Self-deception

Ok, fine. Just tell me where to meet you, and I'll be there.


	9. Chapter 9

**Syed's point of view**

I wish she would just shut up. It's been going on ever since I got home from the Unit. Endless chatter about this, that and the other. She's almost planned my entire wedding to Amira. Never mind the fact that I haven't even proposed yet. Actually, scrap that, I think she's already finished the wedding plans, she's on to names for the grandchildren now. Can't she just leave me in peace? What's that? No, I'm not being jumpy this evening. I'm being perfectly normal. I've just got to work out an excuse to get out of dinner, decide what to wear, get changed and out of the house to meet Christian in the Vic in ... half an hour.

Ok, so saying I'm going to meet Chris isn't really a lie. It's pretty much the truth actually. Not that I've ever heard anyone call him Chris. I don't think it would suit him. He's definitely a Christian – a bit individual, not someone whose name gets shortened like everyone else's. No, there's something different about him... something... OK, let's change that chain of thought. This is just a night out with a mate. Strictly heterosexual. Well, obviously not entirely heterosexual, but at least 50% heterosexual.

Shit, I'm late. I don't want to keep him waiting.

* * *

**Christian's point of view**

I shouldn't be this nervous. I never get nervous. Well, not since that male model who looked like he'd just stepped out of the pages of Men's Health. And what a fool he turned out to be. He looked good in bed, but his conversation over coffee just wasn't worth it.

I wonder what Syed will be wearing. A check shirt probably. Or a T-shirt. That's pretty much his standard wardrobe. Maybe I'll go smart – white shirt, smart trousers. Or should I go for a vest and jeans?

It's just a date. Not even that. It's a night out with a mate. I already know he's not interested, so he can't exactly turn me down. Except he is interested, he's gagging for it. The desperation's oozing out of him. I don't just mean for sex, although that's clear enough. He's just desperate to be himself, to forget about his family, his religion and just be the person he's meant to be. That's what tonight's got to be about. Giving Syed the chance to breathe.

* * *

"Hi. Sorry I'm late."

"S'okay. I've only just got here myself."

"Oh, that's alright then."

"Would you, like a drink?"

"Yeah, sure. Ummm... orange juice please."

"Looks like there's a scrum at the bar. May have to wait a while."  
"No problem."

"Ok."

There was silence. Christian looked at a spot on the wall just past Syed's left shoulder. Syed looked around the pub to see if there was anyone likely to drop him in it with Zainab. The silence was broken as they both spoke at once:

"Look..."

"Christian..."

"You first."

"I was just going to say, I know this is the night out that you've organised and everything, but can we... well, can we go somewhere else?"

"My thoughts exactly."

"So, where's it to be?"

"Well, I thought we'd go for a walk."  
"A walk?"

"Yes, down by the river. I haven't been down there for ages."

"Just a walk?" Syed gestured at the pub around him. "No pubs? No clubs? No gay gaggles?"  
"Gay gaggles? What on earth do you think being gay is like? No. Just a simple, straightforward walk. You and me. And, you know, conversation. And maybe a hot chocolate along the way."

Syed flashed Christian a smile that made his stomach somersault. "Sounds great. Let's go."

* * *

**Syed's point of view**

What time is it? Nearly midnight? I can't believe it. We just spent four hours, walking and talking. And laughing. And drinking hot chocolate. I never thought Christian could be so undemanding. I always thought it had to be parties, and drinking, and gay bars or clubs. I never imagined he'd spend four hours walking along by the river talking about... well, everything.

What did we talk about? I can't even remember now. It wasn't even like it was a big or heavy conversation, nothing about religion or relationships, or being gay, thank god. We just chatted. Like friends. Good friends. Perhaps even best friends.

He was such good company. He listened to me ramble on about when we were kids, and being at uni, and my dreams of being a famous artist. He laughed when I made jokes, and didn't try and brush against me once. And now here I am, walking home alone, and he'll be back in his flat by now. The evening was just... well, Christian - he was just perfect.

* * *

**Christian's point of view**

Oh, I have got it so bloody bad. What the fuck am I going to do? I've just spent four hours on a date, walking. Just walking. Not so much as a sniff of a vodka and tonic. All it takes is two hot chocolates and a few marshmallows and I'm anybody's. Except I'm not anybody's. I'm his. Totally besotted. I've just spent four hours on a date, walking, and I've ended up coming home alone, and yet it was one of the most amazing evenings I've ever had.

He could talk all night and I wouldn't get tired of listening to him. Sometimes he comes across so unsure of himself, as if he's got no confidence. And then he smiles and his eyes start to shine and I look at him and it's as if he could take on the entire world.

He didn't mention Amira once. But she's always there. In the background. Not just Amira, but Zainab too. And Masood. His whole family are the big unmentionable. As long as we don't talk about them we can pretend they don't exist.

Oh, I have got this so, so bad. And it's such a big mistake. It's going to end in tears. My tears most likely.


	10. Chapter 10

**Syed's point of view**

What about the theatre? There's that gay thing, Billy Elliott, I wonder if he's seen that? Perhaps I could get standby tickets. Or there's always Mamma Mia. I bet he'd know all the words to that one. He might have seen it though. Does Christian even like the theatre? I've no idea, we've never had the chance to talk about it.

It would be nice just to talk some more. What can we do that involves just talking? I can't suggest a walk – we've done that one already. How about dinner? I could book a nice restaurant up town, nothing too local, we could get dressed up – or is it too much like a date? I'm not sure I could cope spending a whole evening staring at Christian across a restaurant table.

Ok, so it'll have to be a pub. Not the Vic, though, we'll be seen. Somewhere down Stratford way. But I don't know any pubs down Stratford way. What if I choose the wrong one? Somewhere that he hates? It'll ruin the whole evening.

Dinner. I could cook him dinner. Not at my house, obviously, but at his flat. Something special: no okra and no aubergines. I could do steak and all the trimmings. And afterwards we could sit on that white sofa of his and... ok, so dinner's not such a good idea.

Let's try again. What do I do with Amira when we go out? That might give me some ideas. Actually, come to think of it, Amira and I don't go out that much. Unless it's going shopping.

I'm trying too hard with this. It's got to be easier. All I need to do is show him that I'm not interested. That all that gay stuff, it couldn't bother me less. I can go to a gay club without so much as batting an eyelid. A gay club. That's it – we'll go to a gay club. That should settle this business once and for all.

* * *

"We're going where?"

"It's called Diamonds. It's the new place, just past Stratford. It's... well, it's..."  
"It's gay. I know, I've been meaning to try it out. Sy, are you sure about this?"  
"Yeah, I looked it up online. It looks great. I can't wait."

"Well, I'll just follow you in then."

* * *

**Christian's point of view**

What the fuck was all that about? That man is such a ... such a... an irritating, adorable, confused, irresistible, jealous, screwed up jerk. I can't believe the way he behaved tonight. Why did he choose to go to a gay club if all he was going to do was get arsy with the other guys there? What did he think was going to happen –that no-one was going to look at us? Ok, so I might have been a teensy bit drunk. And that kiss, with that blonde guy, well it was a bit more than just good friends. But Mr-I'm-so-heterosexual has spent the last month telling me he's not bloody interested. Then he takes me to a gay club and gets upset when other guys fill in the gaps. He can just forget it. I've made my feelings clear enough. I'm not going to be messed around by a man who's practically engaged. It's not like I'm ever short of offers. No, Syed's had his chance and he's just blown it big time.

* * *

**Syed's point of view**

I didn't hit him. I know that's why the bouncers threw me out, but it's not true that I hit him. I was just trying to rescue Christian. Christian didn't even know the bloke. And ok, so he did ask if Christian and I were together, but when I told him we were only talking he seemed to launch himself at Christian – and I got in the way, that's all. I mean, Christian can kiss who he likes. It's not as if I would be bothered about something like that.

Christian seemed pretty pissed off though. He thought I'd tried to interfere with his pulling technique. But I thought it was our evening – just the two of us. I didn't think Christian would want company. It's so typical of him – everything has to be about being bloody gay. Even in a gay club he has to take it one step further. Why can't he just tone it down occasionally?

Still, we had a good dance until that bloke wrecked it all. The music was great, and Christian's not bad when he moves. At one stage, it was like our bodies were in rhythm. I'd like to go back there sometime. If they let me in again.

Ouch, my shoulder really hurts. The bouncers shoved me hard against that wall. I wonder what Christian's doing now. Shall I just text him... No, I'll leave it till the morning. Maybe he'll have calmed down a bit by then.


End file.
